The (Modern) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
by Sherlockian19
Summary: Modern adaptations of other Sherlock Holmes stories. Please review


**The (Modern) Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. **

**A/N:** Hello and welcome to my little series of Sherlock fanfics. They will be modern adaptations of other smaller or lesser known Sherlock Holmes stories which the BBC series has not touched upon yet. (This way we fans can have something to enjoy until it's back.) So, please let me know how I did. Thank you!

**The Case of the Suburban Hacker. (Based on the story of The Red Headed League) **

It was in the late days of June that the little adventure, which I have dubbed the Suburban Hacker, took place. I believe it all started on a Friday, around nine in the morning as I and Sherlock were in the middle of our breakfast. Well, I was in the middle of my breakfast while Holmes was in the middle of ravaging our flat looking for "mental stimulation", which usually constituted of one of an insane amount of nicotine patches. "You're not going to find them." I said in between my bites of ham and eggs.

He stopped fumbling through my book shelves and slowly turned his glare towards me, I could see his left hand starting to tremble. "Watson." he whispered, "I will give you five seconds, to explain why I won't find them. Then I'll give you five seconds to tell me where they are."

I swallowed and looked up from the newspaper I was reading, "The answer to both is because I had them removed from the flat.

Sherlock stared at me for some time as his fingers drummed against the bookshelf, "You thew them out?" his voiced seemed to quiver for a moment, but I could pick up the slight inflection of a threatening nature.

I nodded, "Yes, I did. We agreed you were going to get off of them, so as a friend I am helping you in the process." I stuffed a few slices of bacon into my mouth and went back to reading about a series of bank account hacks which were ravaging the wealthy citizens of . The victims all had an income of at least one hundred and forty thousand or more and held a considerable amount in their savings. This, in itself of course wasn't unusual, instead it was the fact that only one bank, The Suburban, which was being hit. And also what had happened to the money that had caught the eye of the media and the public. The funds in the accounts were always transferred into charities from around the world. None was sent to a private account of any kind.

Suddenly Sherlock spoke up again, "Watson, you know me." Looking up from my paper for a second time I saw that he was now pacing the room, "I crave mental exaltation. I need problems. I need work. My mind rebels in stagnation."

"In that case, why don't return the calls of Inspector Jones, he's been dying to talk to you about this hacking thing." I suggested.

"John, I refuse to prance around some fancy-Nancy as she complains about her forgotten charity money. It's beneath me." he replied with a scowl.

I sighed, "Beggars can't be choosers Sherlock."

"They can if they want to be." he remarked after which he collapsed onto the arm-chair and tucked his legs near his body so that his chin was resting on his knees. This gave him a very child like quality, with the pout on his face completing the effect. Shaking my head I went on to finish my breakfast.

It was just as I had taken my last bite, that there was a knock at out-door. "Ah, there might be a case for you there." I said with a smile.

"It's probably just Mrs. Hudson with our tea." Holmes countered as he slid from the chair and went to open the door. To his surprise, it was not in fact Mrs. Hudson, but a stout burly man with a goatee, slick black hair, thick glasses. He was dressed in a black shirt ,with a print of a decapitated zombie head, with the words "Dead Heads" written above it, and black jeans. On his arms he had a few tattoos which I couldn't make out, heavy shoes on his feet, and a large watch on his left wrist.

"Hello, your land lady said this is where I can find Sherlock Holmes." he said.

"I am Holmes." Sherlock replied taking a step back so that our visitor could enter.

"Oh, awesome." he grinned and took a step into the flat, "Well, I have a case I was hoping you could look into. My name is Wilson, eh, Jabez Wilson."

"I see..." Holmes replied placing his hands together under his nose, "In that case Mr Wilson, take a seat over there." he gestured to the arm-chair across from his. "This is Dr Watson, he writes a blog about me."

I cleared my throat and stood, "Actually it's about me, and I just happen to deal with your cases." I quickly countered. It was bad enough people thought we were live in partners. The last thing I wanted was for Holmes to give Wilson the wrong idea.

"Right... well, let's get on with the case Mr. Wilson. Please."

With that Sherlock took a seat on his chair and brought his finger tips together as he always did when listening to a problem he found interesting.

Wilson quickly sat and fished out his wallet from which he removed a business card which Sherlock took. "As you know my name is-

"You name is Mr. Jabez Wilson, you run a computer repair shop. You are right-handed. You used to have a job in construction where you lost a friend in an accident. You have also recently joined a gym and were there yesterday or at least you wanted people to think you were there yesterday. You have an infatuation with or are planning to, visit the nation of Japan and you are a fan of postmortem cannibalism. I think that about covers the basic facts of who you are." he gave Wilson a smile and turned his head to me. "Don't your agree John?" he asked with a smirk. I just rolled my eyes, as I was quite used to him showing off in front of clients. Mr. Wilson on the other hand was completely taken by surprise.

"H-How the fuck did you know all that?" he asked.

"Simple really, I know your name and profession as it is written here on your business card which you yourself gave to me. The fact that you are right handed comes from your hair which is parted to the left, a left handed man would part it to the right. I know you used to work construction and about your friend from your tattoo in his honor which happens to states, In memory of my friend and colleague. You were at the gym yesterday because I can see the imprint of it's name on your right wrist showing you were wearing a tight band and judging from your weight you have obviously not been there for too long. Then we come to the question of Japan, as I noticed in your wallet, while you were looking for your card, add for Japanese language classes. Now, obviously a citizen of the UK would not really spend much time learning the language unless he was very interested in it or needs to."

Wilson blinked again, "And the...cannibalism?"

Sherlock just pointed to Wilson's shirt. "That, I believe is a ghoul, which supposedly feeds on the living after it's been reanimated or some other nonsense like that."

"That was...astounding." he whooped with a smile. "Now I know you'll be able to solve this issue for me."

Sherlock gave Wilson a slight nod, "I will once you tell me what it is."

"Ah, right. Well, it all started two weeks ago when my employee, Spaulding came into the shop with a long sigh, 'Oh, how I wish I enjoyed video games.' he said.

'What do you mean?" I asked him, "Well, I'm just a lowly former banker. A man of numbers. Not a player of games.'

At this, I was quite confused, 'But why would you want to be a player of video games?' I asked.

'Because, I got this email in my in-box earlier this morning.' I have the e-mail to show, here let me find it." he said as he fumbled his smart phone out of his pocket and began to search through his files for a few moments. "Ah, here we are. To all the fans of Dead Heads." he paused and looked up to Sherlock. "That's an online Role playing game on the internet." he explained to Sherlock before continuing to read. "Rock, Paper. Scissors entertainment has a dream job for you! Become a beta tester for our newest expansion pack by submitting the attached form and entering our lottery contest. The winner will be paid to play their favorite online game! So, don't wait, enter today!"

When he was done he looked up at Sherlock expectantly, when he got no reaction he cleared his throat and continued, "At first, I didn't really think it was worth filling out, I mean, what were the chances that I would actually be chosen right? But Spaulding, that's the name of my employee, spent the day insisting I give it a shot and so I finally did. More to get him to calm down than for the possibility of me winning."

"Well, I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when a few days later I got a call from someone stating that I had actually won the contest and was expected to come in for an orientation the next day at this address."

Wilson handed Sherlock a slip of paper which he took and read aloud, "No. 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street. Third Floor room No. 178. I am not really familiar with any game companies in this area. As for the room, I'll admit I've never been the building to know." he muttered.

"Are you even familiar with game companies in general Sherlock?" I asked.

Sherlock looked up from the paper and turned his attention to me, "I may not be a fan of games, but I have catalogued the buildings and landmarks of this city down to the letter." He then turned to Wilson. "Please continue."

Mr. Wilson nodded, "Yes, well, when I arrived to the place they told me to go I found an office decked out in adds and posters for the game and everyone acted very professional, so I had no real doubts of it's legitimacy, and..uh, truth be told I might have been too excited to really pay attention. Either way, I was lead by the receptionist to another room, which was very plain, just two table. One with a computer and the other with sandwiches and cake and what not. I was told to help myself to the food and wait for the one in charge of the testing process.

"So, I grabbed some food and waited, and it was about five minutes later that a tall lanky guy came into the room and greeted me with a smile.

"'Hey there, my name is Mr. Duncan Ross, but you can call me Duncan.' he then offered me his hand, which I shook. 'I'm Jabez Wilson.' I said introducing myself. "

"As usual, my first name caused Mr. Ross to raise and eyebrow and give me a look of amusement. "'Shall I call you Mr. Wilson then?' he asked, and I nodded."

"'Very well Mr. Wilson, as you know, we are here to test out the newest expansion to the Dead Heads game. I must ask, are you a fan?'"

"'Oh, much so,' I replied and he nodded his head, seemingly pleased. 'Very good. Very good. Then, I'll assume that you will enjoy the work that is to be given to you.'

'And what exactly am I to do?' I asked him"

"'Oh, nothing more than sitting in this very room and playing the game. You will then record your thoughts, feelings, and any glitches you may find in a notebook which will be provided.' he explained. When I asked about the pay, he told me I would get payed £600 a week and would be payed every two weeks. He then told me that I would have to be there from ten to two everyday to play the game.

"Now, I'll admit I was excited to start working, I mean, it was pretty much free money in my view! But I did have to explain that I had a business of my own and would need to make sure I would be free in the hours specified."

"'Ah.' he exclaimed as his smile faded, 'Well, we could give some time to look things over and call us back' he said."

"'That would be best.' I told him and he smiled once again, 'Good! You can get our number from Jasmine at the front desk, in the mean while, enjoy the refreshments and I'll expect your call later today. I also must stress that you have to call before ten tonight, or we will move to the next name on the list.'

"I thanked him and promised to do so, after which he left me alone with the sandwiches, which I helped myself to and went back to my shop. When I did, Spaulding pounced upon me with questions about what had happened. I was quick to explain and tell him about me dilemma.

"'Oh! Mr. Wilson, I would be able to watch the shop for you while you do your work there.' he exclaimed. 'It really won't be any trouble.'

And so, after thinking about it, I agreed that my shop would be in good hands and called the company back that I would do the work."

At that point Sherlock raised his hand to silence our guest. " Before you continue, will you describe Duncan Ross and his receptionist."

"Eh, sure. Lets see, the receptionist, Jasmine. Well she uh, had dark brown hair with these red highlights towards the ends of her hair. Her eyes I think were also brown. She was kinda pale too."

"Did she wear eye glasses of any sort? Any tattoos or other identifying marks?"

Wilson thought for a moment, then nodded, "Yes she had both, dark rimmed glasses and a tattoo of a rose on her neck."

Sherlock nodded, "And Ross?"

"Oh, well, Ross seemed pretty average, blonde hair, green eyes, slim. That's about it."

"I see, well, do continue with your story."

Wilson shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, "Right, well, I arrived the next day after confirming my employment with them and was sent to the room with the computer. Where I met Ross who told me that I was to play the game and not leave the room for any reason. If I did need something I was to call on Jasmine who would help me. I agreed and went to work, playing the game for those four hours or so."

"What was your opinion of it?" Sherlock once again interrupted.

"Of the game?" Wilson questioned. Sherlock nodded. "Oh, uh, it was pretty simple really. Nothing too special and truth be told, it looked as if it was a cheap rip off of the original. The graphics were worse and everything just seemed off. Now that I look back that probably should have been a alarm for me but at the time I just assumed that the game was not yet ready."

"Very good, please continue."

I personally, didn't know why the quality of the game mattered to Holmes at the time, but as he would later show, it really did mean to be an alarm.

"I followed the instructions to the letter, and by the end of the second day, I had filled the note-book provided with my opinions and glitches. Which I would hand the note-book to Jasmine before I left for my computer shop. This ruotein lasted until today when I got a check in the mail for £1200, which I quickly went to cash. It was there, at the bank, that I had my first shock. The check Mr. Holmes was counterfeit. Outraged I quickly took a cab to No. 7 Pope's Court to see what the hell was going on. And there Mr. Holmes, I had my second shock. The offices were completely empty!"

It was here that Wilson stood from his chair and started to pace the room, his arms moving in quick jerks his voice raising and falling in intervals. "Cleared out Mr. Holmes! As if the testing had never even happened. Now, you can imagine I was pissed, I mean Totally and completely fucking pissed off. I marched to the main lobby and demanded to speak to someone in charge, and soon this lady comes out and I ask her 'What has happened to the Dead Heads testing room?' she stared at me as if I were insane or something. 'I'm sorry sir,' she replied. 'I never there of what you are talking about.'

"'That's impossible! I was working here yesterday! In office 178, on the third floor.' So, she takes out this big book and starts to look through it, and then she says, 'The only one who was using that room was a Donald Rosster-Greeting Card Company.'

"I was baffled Mr. Holmes and when I went to check the address of this card place it turned out to be an Arabian Market. Later on when I told Spaulding of what had happened he thought it was the funniest thing in the world and couldn't stop laughing, telling me that it must have been a silly prank

When Mr. Wilson finished his story and took his seat, I was taken aback by the bizarreness of his story. I could see no good reason to go through such elaborate measures to play prank, but I could sense that Holmes was already thinking about the possibilities.

Suddenly Sherlock leaned forward. "Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called your attention to the email–how long had he been with you?"

"About a month or so."

"How did you come to hire him?"

"In answer to an advertisement."

"Was he the only applicant?"

"No, I had a dozen."

"Why did you pick him?"

"Well, I felt bad for him, is all. You see, he was fired a few weeks before he came to my attention and was desperate for a job."

Holmes let out a slight grunt and leaned back into his chair, "Right then, what is he like? This Spaulding."

"Well, he's short, stout, very quick in his ways, clean shaven." he paused and looked down at the floor, his face twisted in thought, "Oh! And he had just recently lost a job at the Suburban Bank."

Sherlock tilted his head, "Please explain."

"Well, he used to work as in the bank as some sort of higher up but he was fired because of some protest situation. Seemed pretty bitter about it actually."

"I see...well, that's fine. Now, are there any identifying features? Glasses, tattoos, scars of any kind?"

Mr. Wilson thought back once more, "Just that his left ear is..slightly deformed."

"Deformed? How? Come on Wilson! I need data. I can not make bricks without clay."

Wilson blinked slightly flustered, "I..uh...well, it's bent on the top."

"Bent on the top?"

"Yes, like an indent. That's all I remember."

"Very well, now one last question. How has your business been since you started all this?"

"My business...truth be told it's had a sudden decline. I don't really know why."

"Ah, very good. Very good." Sherlock nodded, "Things are becoming much clearer."

Personally, for me the case wasn't clear at all. I mean, how could it really, with Zombies, false games, and vanishing companies. And the idea that it was some sort of grand joke also made little sense to me.

Sherlock leaned back in his seat and brought his hands up to his lip once more, "So, we have a case of someone asking you to work for a false game, from ten to two everyday and then they vanish without a trace." Sherlock then wiggled in his seat with excitement and stood. "Mr. Wilson, I thank you for bringing this case to me." he exclaimed.

Wilson stood excitedly, "So you'll take the case?" he asked.

Sherlock put his hand on the other's shoulder and began to lead him to the front door, "Mr. Wilson, not only do I take the case, I'll have it solved for you in two days if not sooner."

"Oh,thank you!" Our guest exclaimed, "I'll be sure the bring you the money as soon as I can."

At this Sherlock chuckled and opened the door, "Do not fret yourself over it." he stated and pushed our visitor out of the door and closed it behind him. Then turning towards me Sherlock grinned, "This is stupendous!" he exclaimed. "A real treat for my mind to cut into. Well, John,what do you make of it all?"

"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most mysterious business."

"As a rule," said Holmes as he began to pace the room, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter."

"How do you propose to tackle it?" I asked getting up from the breakfast table and moving to my lap top.

"Ah, that is quite simple. First we break the problem down into a few simple questions. Mainly 'why'. The first one is of course easy to figure out. Now it is the second why that ill prove to be most interesting."

"The second why?" Now, I must say that I don't consider myself a stupid man, I am a doctor after all, but as usual Sherlock's quick thinking had left me behind.

"Yes John, the second why. Why would someone need Wilson out of the shop during the times specified. That is the question that faced us today."

"You, the question faces you. I am taking the free time that I have to work on my blog."

For a moment Holmes seemed baffled, "You are not interested in this?" he asked. I shook my head, "Not at the moment, no. But by all means enjoy yourself."

"Right then, I do think this is only a three patch problem.." he began under his breath and went to the desk where he kept his nicotine patches. Opening the top drawer he was reminded that I had removed them. Frowning I saw him turn a glare towards me in the reflection in my computer screen. "Right then," I heard him say under his breath then he announced loudly "I'm going out!" and grabbed his over coat and scarf.

Quickly I turned in my chair, "Where are you going?" I asked him.

"Out of course." he replied grabbing the knob of the front door.

"Sherlock, are you going to buy nicotine patches?" I asked, not bothering to look up from my computer. Sherlock froze, but didn't reply. "I would prefer that you didn't." I stated. "If that makes any difference to you."

I heard him sigh, before opening the door and stepping out leaving me alone to work, which I did for a few hours. Interrupted only my Mrs. Hudson who despite her insistence of not being a house keeper had brought me a plate of sandwiches. Thanking her I ate before continuing on updating the note which I had taken about various cases. Just as the sky as starting to darken Sherlock burst into the apartment looking totally exhilarated. "John!" he cried, "How do you feel about seeing a film at the cinema tonight?"

I turned and blinked up at him, never once in our time together as roommates had Sherlock shown any interest in films of any sort, let alone one about detectives. "You want to see a film about a detective?"

"Of course John! It'll be exciting, but get a move on. I wish to grab a bite to eat before we do so."

We travelled by the Underground as far as Alders-gate; and a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure. Sherlock stopped in front of the last house with his head on one side and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down an ally and stayed out of sight to me for a few moments. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's and with a pleased look upon his face.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Just the house of Wilson's employee." He replied and still smiling began to pick the lock.

"What are you doing?" I asked him harshly. "This is a crime."

In response, I just got a scoff. "Really John, you think that bother me?"

I sighed, exasperated by his behavior but seeing that there wasn't much for me to do I just stood watch. Eventually there was a click and the front door opened as Sherlock entered. Turning, I quickly followed him and locked the door behind me. Inside we were met with the scene of an average messy sitting room in a pretty average flat. On the walls there were photographs of whom I assumed was Spaulding, and another woman who was probably his girlfriend or wife. "So Sherlock, what exactly are we looking for?" I asked as I walked around the room feeling quite awkward. As always I got no answer and a quick glance confirmed that Sherlock was already digging through the papers on the coffee table. Sighing I came up to him, "What are you looking for?"

"Confirmation that Spaulding is the Suburban Hacker."

I blinked, "What? How?"

"What do you mean how? It's obvious. Look on the walls. They are plastered with photos of Spaulding and the false receptionist. One even has our mysterious Duncan Ross in it as well."

Blinking I went over to the wall and looked the photos over more carefully and sure enough the woman described by our guest this morning was clearly there, but that still didn't answer how Holmes was sure the hacker was Spaulding, and so I asked him.

"Simple John. I visited Inspector Jones today and asked him when the accounts had all been hacked."

"And his answer was?"

Sherlock looked over to me and smirked. "Between ten and two. Exactly when our esteemed client was out of his shop playing his game and as you know I reject all coincidences."

I looked back at the photographs on the walls. "And, what do you plan on doing about it?"

Sherlock laughed and dropped the letters back onto the table, "I plan on waiting for him to tell us everything about it." he replied and sat down onto the couch.

"You what?" I asked, horrified.

"What is the matter Watson? Don't like adventure?"

I was about to answer but there was the sound of a key entering the lock on the door, covering my mouth Sherlock pulled me against the wall as the door opened and a woman entered the flat. She had fiery red hair and a flower tattoo on her neck. "The Secretary!" I thought.

"Well well, what a surprise." Holmes said as she closed the door. The young woman spun around and pointed a can of mace at my friend. "Now now that doe-" he didn't get the finish his sentence because she promptly hit him in the face with it.

Letting out a shout Sherlock began to wipe his face furiously with his sleeve. "I'm with the police!" she shouted at her and began to dig into his pocket for Lestrade's badge.

The woman seemed to pale a bit, "Police?" she asked, "Then what are you doing surprising me in my own flat?"

I glanced at Sherlock who was on the floor now, eyes tearing as he forced them open with his fingers. "Investigating." I replied, "I'm inspector...Donovan. We have reason to believe that your...friend Spaulding is responsible for the recent wave of bank hacks."

I noticed a flash of worry in her eyes, "Danny is in no such thing. I assure you."

"Oh? And does the Dead Heads Beta ring any bells?"

Here eyes widened, "How do you know about that?" she asked.

"We know more than that!" Holmes shouted, "Now you can cooperate or go to prison for a long long time!"

She looked down at him for a long time, then, "Fuck...it was all his idea I swear."

Well needless to say she proved Holmes right, her boyfriend, Dan Spaulding was behind the hacks and he had wanted to get revenge on the bank while also making himself a lot of money. The Unseen Children charity was a front where he would send his cut of the money the rest was real but only to fool those in the Occupy Movement to help him. Wilson's computer shop was a perfect place to do this hacking because of it's wi-fi and unlimited number of new computers to do work with. Thus, he hoped he would be safe from detection.

But once again, needless to say Spaulding was arrested and the the case was moved to more...international hands. (Namely Mycroft's friends) Holmes ended up insisting he be taken to a hospital to be watched over while his eyes recovered and I ended up with three nights of peace.

Later on the morning of his return we both had a full breakfast and then went to settle on the arm chair in front of the television,"You see, Watson," he explained as we sat watching the news story of the arrest of the "Suburban Hacker", "It was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the Beta tests, and the playing of the game, must be to get this not over-bright computer store owner out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Spaulding's ingenious mind by one of his bosses T-shirts. The 600 pounds a week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the situation."

"But how could you guess what the motive was?"

"Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man's business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant's fondness of the Occupy Movement, and his trick of vanishing into the back rooms. The Storage! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the back room - something which took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was running an electronic tunnel so to speak, into the bank accounts of his former place of work.

"You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration "It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true."

"It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so."

"And you are a benefactor of the race," said I.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use," he remarked. " 'L'homme c'est rien - l' oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand."


End file.
